


Curious Bitty

by Jacqueemackee



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bitty is a social media whiz, Bitty is curious, Canon Compliant, Clubbing, Communication, Dancing, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Hook-Up, Inexperienced, Jack is panicking, M/M, PR has a plan, Virginity, communication is both sexy and essential, fear of relationship loss, finally out, long talks of consent, unequal experience, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacqueemackee/pseuds/Jacqueemackee
Summary: Things are going so well. Bitty & the Falcs' PR team have put together a carefully crafted plan to win over the fans, conquer the media, control the narrative, and convince everyone to let them just live their lives. If it goes well, they'll get to choose how they handle the media and their lives from here on out and Bitty will get to be the secret force behind Jack's official social media accounts.Until, that is, Bitty has a confession. Jack is his first everything in so many ways and he's so glad that they were in love and committed before they... did anything. But now he's curious about what it's like to have something wild and unknown and spontaneous and surprising. A night with a stranger.Suddenly Jack feels like his world is falling apart.





	1. Operation: Control the Narrative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darter_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/gifts).



> My very first fic, unbeta'ed, and posted at 4 in the morning. The incredible Darter_Blue turned my headcanon squee'ing in the comments of "Love Exactly" into a gorgeous speech that left me inspired to write a little something of my own.

Jack and Bitty were almost to the last stage of the last date in Operation: Control the Narrative and Jack was feeling… optimistic. Both for the success of the plan itself but also for what may happen later tonight. It had been over a year and he was finally, finally going to get to dance with his boyfriend, as his boyfriend, in public. And he knew how Bitty got when he danced. He fought to control his grin.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Bitty asked. Candlelight flickered across his face, glinting off the sun-kissed highlights in his hair and the gorgeous chocolate of his eyes. Jack let his eyes roam from his lips down to the tanned skin peeking out from Bitty’s unbuttoned collar. They were both in crisp, “casual” designer shirts, tailored so snug that Jack had initially worried he’d strain the buttons if he flexed and then forgotten his concerns entirely upon seeing Bitty preening in the mirror before they left, every inch of his body sharply outlined by the personal tailoring.

“Just admiring my favorite liney,” he replied, grin breaking through as Bitty blushed all the way down to his throat. Bitty reached a hand across the table and Jack took it, wrapping his fingers around Bitty’s and idly stroking the hockey calluses he found there. They smiled softly at each other and smiled and smiled and just when it started to feel unnatural, Bitty flicked his eyes over to a nearby table and said, “Okay, we’re good,” and dropped his gaze, chuckling softly. 

Jack’s eyes widened as he fought not to look. “You set me up!” he accused, fighting to keep his face stern even as Bitty gave his best “scheming villain” face, perfected over the past few weeks. But he relented as Bitty stood up and tugged him over to the dance floor.

“Come on, sweetpea, one good shot of us dancing and Michelle- sorry, ‘anonymous dinner club patron with a sneaky camera’- can stop keeping an eye on us and go enjoy the rest of the night with her date.”

“I can’t believe we brought our own paparazzi along with us,” Jack grumbled, pulling Bitty into his arms. “Couldn’t we trust that some sneaky fan would do the job instead?”

“Now, honey, she’s already written out an apology for her fake Twitter persona to release after the Falcs tweet out a request to respect our privacy after she ‘leaks’ the photos later tonight. Stop thinking about what we’re putting the interns through and just focus on dancing for a little bit, k?”

Jack shook his head. “I’m so lost,” he said. “I’m glad you’ll be taking care of things after this. It’ll be a big responsibility, eh? Being the exclusive ghost-writer for every single social media account the Falcs’ PR have set up and been running for me the past year? Not having to get prior approval every time you Tweet about me or share passwords the way some of the WAGs have to do?”

“That’s the deal, sugar,” Bitty chuckled. “Be nice to me or I’ll Tweet about your secret obsession with chicken tenders.” He nuzzled his cheek into Jack’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to going through your pictures, though. They left Instagram pretty much alone, except to tag you in pictures from the team account. I can’t wait to show the world what you see behind the lens of a camera.” A new song started up, faster, sexier, and Bitty grinned. “Now, c’mon and _dance with me_.” 

Jack laughed and complied. He was a good dancer and the movements were easy, familiar, muscle memory established from so many impromptu dance parties in Jack’s kitchen. Bitty was an excellent dancer, even though he was clearly holding back, keeping his hips to a mostly PG-rating the way he did when he was at a Kegster surrounded by straight people and still mostly sober. They danced close, but not grinding, hands lingering on hips and shoulders instead of where they really wanted to go. He tugged Bitty a little closer and murmured in his ear, “One of these days, I’m going to take you dancing somewhere so crowded and dark that no one will know where my hands are.”

Bitty shivered and cupped the back of Jack’s neck, tilting up to murmur back, “Last date and we’re home free. All our outings up to our own devices and not controlled by the ruthless dictates of the PR team.” Jack smiled and focused on the music, letting Bitty gently re-arrange him as needed or angle them in one direction or another depending on where Michelle was so the pictures looked both romantic and sneakily-shot, but mostly concentrating on how good it was to be here like this, Bitty smiling up at him like this was a dream come true. And it was, he knew it was, hiding had been so hard for Bitty after how much he’d fought to be out and free and himself and it had just killed Jack last fall when Bitty confessed that one of his first fantasies about being gay had involved going out and dancing in the arms of a handsome man (he was 15 at the time). Now they were both out and Jack was determined to make Bitty’s every dream come true. Still, Jack couldn’t help his mind wandering after they’d stopped for some water and Bitty confirmed he’d gotten the all-clear signal that Michelle was done for the night.

“Do you think it’s working? This whole win over the fans and fight the rumors… thing? I mean, they’ve been fun for the most part, but I don’t see how they could possibly be effective in whatever way the team is going for.”

Jack thought about the dates they’d had so far, each one carefully arranged and some even choreographed during a joint meeting of Bitty and the entire Falcs PR game. Bitty had been shut up in their offices for four hours straight earlier this summer while Jack had his locker clean-out, discussing strategies, approaches, parameters, the merits of each social platform for different messages, which stereotypes needed to be refuted and which indulged, if Bad Bob’s Tweet-bashing of any naysayers could ever be controlled, and what would convince the fans that a Jack Zimmermann in love was a great and wonderful improvement over his Hockey Robot persona and not a sign that he was distracted from the game. Just hearing a summary of the meeting made his head spin until he had thrown up his hands and promised to do whatever Bitty said. But the next time he saw Georgia, she’d pulled him aside and informed him that the PR team had told Bitty no less than 5 separate times that if it wasn’t for “ethical concerns” they’d be immediately taking him on for a summer internship with the PR staff.

Part 1 had been the interns’ player retrospectives. Each one of the 6 had been assigned a different player- Marty and Thirdy as co-captains, Tater as injured hero, Snowy as FTG, Poots as rookie, Jack as both co-captain and rookie- and put together a review of their year which was meant to showcase the player but also the intern’s skills and unique style and serve as a capstone for their portfolio. Vasily had made Tater cry with his; he had hunted down publicity shots and video stills of Tater’s parents and painstakingly matched them up with shots, clips, and stills of Tater for the “where he came from” portion of his video. The resemblance to his father and their joint fierceness on ice was no surprise but he’d also captured Tater showing off some of his mom’s signature dance moves during the family skate. The dedication and research it took to bring that to life had touched them all and Tater had commissioned Bitty to make double batches of Vasily’s favorite cookies as a thank you.

Jack’s video, however, was very different. He had groaned inwardly when he found out that Michelle had been assigned (or volunteered for) his video. She was bright and quick with the quips both online and in person but whenever she saw him with Bitty, she clasped her hands together, cooed, and proclaimed, “I ship you so much!” Jack didn’t know what that meant but he was a little worried about how many computer-generated hearts were going to show up and then felt ashamed with how thoroughly the final result had proven him wrong. There wasn’t a single Hockey Robot shot in there. Instead she had hunted down photos and clips showing fierceness, determination, and the evolution of his on-ice celly as his confidence and comfort with his team had grown. Samwell was represented as well. Samwell and Bitty. Shots of him in his faded red SMH shirt from Falcs’ TV spots, the team visiting en masse for his first home game (Bitty clearly included), the never-before-seen clips and pics of him with Bitty at the family skate that the camera crew had taken but carefully not released, Jack chasing after Bitty in an impromptu on-ice race, their faces grinning but determined with Bitty in the lead, Bitty in the stands decked out in Falcs gear every time he attended a home game interspersed with Jack smiling bigger and bigger as he was named co-captain and scored goal after goal, Jack smacking the glass once the Falconers made it to the final round, glove inches from Bitty’s face as he cheered and Holster embraced him and Shitty yelled and pounded back until, finally, the game-winning shot, Jack twirling Bitty around on the ice, that kiss, and, at last, Jack hoisting the Cup into the air, Bitty’s arms wrapped around his waist, faces glowing, surrounded by Jack’s parents, Ransom, Holster, Lardo, Tater, and the rest of the Falcs, all united and together. The official Falconer’s Twitter account had released all the retrospectives together as if they were all the same, but the message had been clear: Bitty was a part of Jack’s life and Jack’s game from the very start of his NHL career and he was loved and embraced by the team.

Part 2 had been a first “real” date to test the waters. Jack had finally downloaded Twitter onto his phone (before he’d just read Bitty’s tweets on his laptop each day) and posted a selfie of Bitty and himself at Providence’s finest French restaurant with a chirp about wanting to see how much Bitty had retained from his 2 semesters of foreign language. They were both nicely dressed in good suits purchased for this occasion and others to come and the restaurant went unnamed but the edges of the table, booth, and the wall behind them were visible in the shot. Both Falcs’ PR and security were on call that night, the social media team meticulously calculating how long it took for Jack’s tweet to get noticed, go viral, and be picked up first by local news and then national sports accounts. Jack and Bitty were in a private room rented out for the sake of an uninterrupted meal while one of the interns plus a date enjoyed a fancy meal on the Falconer’s dime in the main dining room as they tracked any potentially suspicious influx of diners to the location. By the time Jack and Bitty were carefully escorted out of the back kitchen entrance 2 hours later, the restaurant had been named and tagged in re-tweets for some time, there were more customers than usual for an early weekday evening but they mostly seemed polite (although disappointed when it was clear that they wouldn’t get a glimpse of their Stanley Cup star), and 2 or 3 local beat reporters loitering out front but not accompanied by camera crews. Fan sites were all over the selfie the next day, but official sports sites and news organizations didn’t have much to say beyond adding it to the clips they used when discussing the “gay hockey” issue. 

Part 3 had been a casual walk hand-in-hand to their favorite local coffee shop, Jack confused as to why such a thing had to be coordinated and scheduled in advance when he hoped it would be a commonplace occurrence from then on and Bitty patiently explaining that they were doing this precisely for the sake of their future plans. Their first few times out and about together would probably garner the most attention, but they needed to get an idea if it would eventually die down as the novelty of their relationship and the Stanley Cup win faded a bit or if they would be mobbed every time they stepped outside. On the way there, they had received smiles and nods and a few shocked double-takes although the people had kept walking and made no move to stop them. One woman had scowled and tugged her children more fiercely down the sidewalk away from them but said nothing directly and didn’t even seem to recognize Jack. Bitty had sighed and looked sad and faraway until Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. The coffee shop was nice. No one bothered them in line and the first to approach after they sat down was a young girl with a Falcs sunhat that had stammered an apology for bothering them and begged for an autograph. After Jack smiled and pulled out a pen, people started queuing up for autographs and selfies, Jack reaching out his arm or pulling Bitty close so that he was in the frame for each one. When Jack could feel himself slipping too far into Hockey Robot monotone, Bitty had piped up with a, “Sorry, y’all! Canadian robots need their caffeine in order to function and our coffee is getting cold! You can stop us on our way out but we need some space right now.” Astonishingly, the fans had obliged and dispersed back to their tables, although clearly still waiting (and some still snapping pictures) until Jack and Bitty finished and bussed their table and approached the customer they remembered as being the next in line. It was hard for Jack to sit with his back to everyone while Bitty monitored the situation between sips and their own conversation, but it would have been worse to face them and see them watching and on their phones and getting shots that included his face. On their way back, they were recognized and stopped for the first block or so but then left alone as they got back to the quiet neighborhood that Jack’s condo was in. The coffee shop did indeed have a swarm of people later on but word hadn’t spread quickly enough for more than a handful of additional people to arrive before they left. The shots of the back of Jack’s head were not all that interesting or even conclusive so the only fans who really had something to show were the ones who had gotten selfies or a quick pic from the side on their way out. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t as bad as Jack feared. Tater served as a control group by stopping at a different coffee shop just a short time later and reported much the same reception until a few puck bunnies became convinced that he needed their "help" in being nursed back to health and he frantically texted Jack & Bitty for a rescue ride so he didn’t have to wait on a taxi to take him home.

Part 4 had been a special Meet My Boyfriend episode of Bitty’s vlog. PR had thought it was too much and too out of their control but Bitty had insisted that his followers could be powerful allies in the online battle of public opinion and he wasn’t going to neglect the people that had been following and supporting him for years. They compromised on Bitty retaining full creative control but letting PR view the video, provide feedback (and nix it if needed), and approve the final version before it posted. Bitty had introduced Jack before guiding him through the production of protein bars with peanut butter, coconut, and chocolate chips and then done a Q&A based on reader’s questions over the past year while the bars were baking. Since few of them had guessed beforehand that his boyfriend was actually his friend and former captain Jack Zimmermann, Jack didn’t have to deal with any questions about his career or playing. Instead he got to chirp Bitty with stories of him as a frog, describe his initial impression upon seeing Bitty for the first time (“so short yet so feisty”), and ramble on about all the reasons he was attracted to Bitty. The only hockey related questions were about his reaction to finding out Bitty had been made captain and what kind of captain he’d be so he shared the story of finding out right after a Falcs team meeting and immediately sharing it with all the guys, and followed it up with a list of all the reasons why he thought Bitty was going to be a phenomenal captain, and he was very excited to follow SMH’s progress throughout their next year. He ended with a promise to upload all his senior project photos that included Bitty to his sadly neglected Instagram account. They spent a total of 6 hours filming for a 30 minute video and Jack was left awestruck at the amount of work Bitty must have been pouring into his vlog the past few years. Part of it was his own fault, he realized. When he tripped up or got nervous or realized halfway through a story that he was about to let slip something personal, Bitty was there to guide him and encourage him or just let him take a few deep breaths and start over with a different story. And, of course, whenever Jack’s nervousness threatened to slip him into robot mode, Bitty kissed or tickled or chirped him back to a more smiling relaxation then carefully edited out his interventions in the final product. Jack came across as a fun and adoring chef’s assistant and Bitty the competent but indulgent master of his domain. The most fangirly of the fake Twitter accounts the interns used to interact with other fans and spark conversations got the privilege of being the first to re-tweet the link once Bitty put up the final, Falcs-approved video.

Part 5 had been a steak dinner with Ransom and Holster in Boston. They all wore their official SMH Captain shirts, but Ransom and Holster didn’t tweet out the selfies until after they parted ways. It was so good to see them and hear their stories about the hijinks they got to up in their new jobs as project consultants, complete with new whiteboards, regular lectures to co-workers (with theme song), and a whole new level of Ransom spreadsheets. The waitress clearly recognized them but waited until the very end of the meal to ask for an autograph and whisper a “thank you” to Bitty for being out and unashamed as she had a cousin who’d stayed deeply closeted and miserable while playing NCAA football. They were hailed on their way out as they walked by the bar and got sneered at by a drunk, but the regulars just seemed to want to tell Jack to his face that his first season was just “a lucky shot” and the Bruins were going to cream them next year. Bitty and Jack both winced at that particular phrase but hid it well and Jack gave them a media face response thanking them for being hockey fans. Much of the hate Jack had been receiving online had come from fans of rival teams but either nobody was that brave in person or nobody was going to try something with Ransom and Holster hovering nearby looking both proud and fiercely protective. And it was good to have an excuse to see the guys.

Part 6 was literally a run through the park. This seemed particularly silly to Jack because he and Bitty ran together through a nearby forest preserve every other day and planned to continue for the rest of the summer. But this time, Falcs PR dictated that it be at 9 in the morning instead of 7 and include 2 laps around a park popular with other joggers, bikers, skateboarders, nannies with strollers, and senior citizens out for a stroll. Jack had felt relaxed and confident from the first part of his run, feet flying swiftly down the pavement, Bitty at his side chirping him and looking golden and glorious. Then they stopped for a drink at a nearby water fountain and got absolutely swarmed. It felt like everyone within 100 feet had surrounded them in less than 5 minutes, even people who he was sure neither knew nor cared about hockey drawn in by the intrigue of a sudden, unexplained crowd. They were surrounded on all sides by strangers who didn’t seem to care how many times he said they had to get going and finish their run and he fell into a full media monotone as he answered some questions and refused many more (“How did Eric turn you gay? Does he remind you of Kent Parson? Did you go to Samwell just so you could date boys?”). Things had been going so well prior to that point that PR hadn’t had a rescue plan in place and once they’d gotten back home, Jack had refused to leave the apartment for the next 2 days. The PR team had sent apology flowers.

And now here they were, on lucky part 7. Dinner and dancing at a club known for being a more sedate and classy alternative to some of the other nightlife places in the area. The dance floor was small and intimate, ringed with an inner layer of small, candle-lit tables and an outer layer of cozy, even more dimly-lit booths, like the one Jack and Bitty were currently snuggled in. Bitty people-watched as Jack wrapped his arms around his waist and hummed along to the music, nose in Bitty’s hair. Bitty liked to come up with grand adventures for the strangers that caught his eye, giving them back stories, meet-cutes, hidden dramas, sometimes wild or silly shenanigans but, almost always, a happy ending to them all. Right now he was watching a woman dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor and a man at the bar watching her and looking captivated. “I see you found some targets, Bits. What’s the story?”

“Well, Mr. Zimmermann, if you must know, I think they’re strangers. They clearly don’t know each other well by the way they’re sneaking looks at each other and trying not to get caught. If this was a first date, he’d be right there on the dance floor trying to impress her but as it is, he’s hanging back and worrying that it’d be too forward of him to go join her. But look- there- she’s angled towards him and making sure no other dancers are blocking his view and aaaaah, there it is, see? She totally grinned at him over her shoulder. And oh yep, here he comes. Let’s see what happens.”  
Jack chuckled and closed his eyes, letting Bitty’s play-by-play narration wash over him. This felt so good, so right. Whether he was being politely ignored or had just gone unrecognized, he didn’t care. He was out in public with his beautiful boyfriend, holding him close, and not caring about the rest of the world. He may even have gloated a little bit at some of the glances Bitty attracted on the dance floor, thinking of all the moves and sexiness that Bitty wasn’t even showing and how he was the one going home with Bitty at the end of the night and taking him to bed or maybe, just maybe, lingering in the kitchen or living room awhile with one of Bitty’s special playlists so they could dance “for real” as Bitty described his usual bold, take-no-prisoners, unbelievably sexy, leave-Jack-Zimmermann-a-panting-mess-of-need-awe-and-desire style of dancing. But for now, he just smiled, content and drifting, getting ready to pull Bitty out on the dance floor for another slow song and a few fast ones before calling it a night. He was a Stanley Cup winner, co-captain of his team, proud boyfriend of captain Eric Bittle, and he had most of a glorious summer off still ahead of him to spend with the most handsome man he’d ever met. Life was good.

Of course, this was when he noticed that Bitty’s voice had faded away uncertainly, leaving an odd silence. He nuzzled Bitty’s hair gently and said, “Hey, what is it?”

“Um…..” Bitty sat up a little and Jack pulled back to get a better look at his face. But Bitty kept staring down, twisting his fingers together in his lap. Jack reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly over Bitty’s. Bitty’s eyes flicked up to Jack’s concerned face then back down before he cleared his throat and tried again. “There was… there are… some things I wanted to ask you about… about, uh, hook-ups. One-night stands. Casual stuff. I... I’m….” Bitty squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and finally forced out a whisper: “I’m curious.”

Jack tried not to choke as he felt his world come crashing down around him.


	2. Bitty's Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty spills about all the conversations he's had about hook-ups and casual sex that Jack never knew about and reveals why he never had a one-night stand before falling for Jack. Jack listens.
> 
> Then Bitty tells him about the fantasy and Jack listens even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Jack gets pretty anxious at points in this chapter. He always finds a way to ground himself and pull back to reality and it never gets to panic attack levels but I still wanted to give fair warning.
> 
> Also, Bitty is super rambly when he gets nervous. Whew! I just could not shut that boy up.
> 
> Rating bumped up to M for this chapter.

Jack was drowning. Waves were crashing over his head, frigid and bitter with salt. The wind was howling, bringing dark, half-remembered whispers.

“C’mon, Zimms, don’t you want to try it?”  
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise….”  
“Do something new for once!”  
“No one’ll ever find out.”  
“But you’re curious, aren’t you Zimms? So let’s just go for it”

Jack deeply regretted some of the things he’d done and was downright ashamed of others. And now Bitty, his gorgeous, amazing Bitty felt like he was missing out on the things Jack fervently wished had never happened.

Jack knew Shitty would ream him out if he found out Jack was thinking this way, but Bitty was _his_. Jack wouldn’t have cared in the slightest if Bitty had had a history before him. Jack was anxious sometimes about ruining Bitty’s first experiences, being a bad boyfriend, not knowing how to do anything right, and Bitty fighting so hard to be out and proud only to have his first relationship shoved into the closet for a year. It would’ve been easier in some ways if Bitty had been established and confident in his own sexuality with a handful of positive experiences to provide a framework and contrast to everything Jack put him through. But being Bitty’s first had touched something deep in Jack, both tender and primal. He’d watch Bitty bopping along to music in the kitchen or sprawled on his couch, surfing through his phone, and he’d just lose himself in thinking about how only his lips had discovered that spot behind Bitty’s ear, only his fingers had pushed up under his shirt to trace the smooth lines of Bitty’s stomach, only his tongue had swirled around Bitty’s nipple again and again, before sliding down and down and….

Bitty was _his_. And Jack would do anything to keep it that way.

Anything…. except risk losing him.

A muffled squeak brought Jack brought to reality and he realized guiltily that he was clutching Bitty way too tight, fingers digging into Bitty’s stomach and nose mashed into his collarbone. He fought to control his breathing. “Sorry Bits,” he murmured, voice coming out husky but- thankfully- steady. “Lost myself for a minute there. Bad memories.”

“Oh honey,” whispered Bitty. “We don’t have to talk about this. Just… just forget it, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

Jack was getting better at telling when Bitty was lying.

“No Bits, tell me. Anything you want to say. Not everyone had my messed-up adolescence. Hook-ups are a huge deal and I’m sure you were surrounded by stories in the Haus.” Bitty felt tense in his arms, hesitant and unsure. Jack nuzzled into his hair, pressed a kiss to his temple, and made his voice as light and teasing as he could. “Healthy relationships are all about communication, eh? Open up.”

“Well, if you’re sure……” Bitty waited until Jack hummed and nodded against the side of his head before continuing. “I keep thinking about something Shitty said when he introduced me and the other frogs to the Haus. About how the sex we’d have would be either regretful or glorious. And if we hadn’t done it yet, we were going to lose our virginities within those walls and it would be either fantastic or, um, damaging. I think. It’s been 3 years, you know? And as a still closeted gay frog, it got me thinking. And fantasizing. But also, um, worrying about it. Back then, I didn’t dream that there’d be so many gay and bi guys showing up to hockey kegsters, even if they were at Samwell. And at my first one I had to do that kegstand because I got my first assist and afterwards I was pretty tipsy and Ransom and Holster were trying to convince me to hook-up but I wasn’t ready to tell them I was gay yet, so I tried to stall by… asking them about it. Them. Hook-ups and… and stuff.”

Jack felt his eyebrows go all the way up to his hairline but he just nodded again and made an encouraging, “go on” sort of noise in Bitty’s ear.

“And I mean, I of course didn’t tell them I was still a virgin, but I did say I’d never had a one-night stand before, southern gentleman and all that, you know? So I said it seemed like it had an enormous amount of potential to go incredibly wrong. Except not quite so smooth because I was also the most wasted I’d ever been in my life.”

Jack didn’t trust himself to speak at the moment, but he managed another sort of “I’m listening” noise and rubbed his thumb up and down a little over Bitty’s waist. Communication was important. He could do this.

“So they said that was, like, kinda the point? That the thrill of not knowing if it was going to be awful or incredible was kinda part of the experience. But that you did what you could to make sure you were on the same page, even with a complete stranger. That even if you were compatible with someone, it wouldn’t work if one of you were in a, uh, “Netflix and chill” kinda mode, and the other just wanted to go at it all hard and heavy from the first moment walking through the door.”

Jack definitely couldn’t talk right now. And even if he could, it would not be in English.

“So one of the awesome things about Kegsters was how it got people on the same page, you know? Everyone’s kinda tipsy, hopefully in roughly equal amounts, but you’re both having the same experience before you know, experiencing anything together. And the dancing is so important because it’s such a good way to know if you’re on the same page in terms of, um, rhythm and speed and movement and if you’re not, you can just part ways and you’re still in public and no one feels too rejected or has to find a way home, right? Well, obviously, I mean, dancing’s been used that way for hundreds of years, right?”

Jack was not going to think of his boyfriend dancing gracefully in a Regency-era waistcoat with breeches and buttons and boots and…. Not here. Not now. He was being a good listener. No getting distracted. He made an affirmative, “I have a history degree and that’s totally accurate” sort of noise instead.

“But they admitted that hook-ups can be kinda limiting, too, you know? Because you’re not going to break out anything too kinky on a total stranger because there’s too much chance they’ll freak out and you’ll be left with nothing. So unless you’re really on the same wavelength as someone and somehow both discover that you’re into the same things, they tend to be pretty vanilla because the thrill of doing it with a stranger provides the main excitement? And you both have to kinda figure out what the other one likes and what does it for them as quickly as possible and sometimes it just never happens and the whole experience just turns out sorta meh, I guess? And maybe they suspected that I’m gay because they told a story about their one friend who tried to hook up with a really hot twink but then they both turned out to be tops and both refused to switch and it just kinda ended in a, um, stale-mate.”

Jack focused on breathing. And reminding himself that they were in public. His gaze was fixated on Bitty’s shoulder and the line of his neck and his hair but beyond that there were still the other tables and, farther away, the dancers that started it all, still moving and dipping on the dance floor. His throat was dry and tight, but he managed another nod and a nuzzle.

“So then I asked them about bad hook-ups and all the things that can go wrong. And then they had a flood of horror stories to match all the hot or funny ones they had just been telling. About thinking things went amazingly well and wanting to see a particular chick again only to have her go, ‘meh, I’m out’. Or sudden teary break-downs over exes or girls refusing to believe it’d just been a one-time thing or Holster taking his pants off and then getting puked on because it was at a kegster and he thought she’d been way more sober than she actually was because she was walking and talking okay. So on the one hand he totally deserved that but, also, totally gross. And once Ransom hooked up with a hot chick as a final way to burn off stress before he buckled down for finals only to discover that she sat 5 rows behind him in Bio lecture and tried to ask him out after class every day for the next 3 weeks. And he kept turning her down because he was in full coral reef mode and by the time his exams were done and he tracked her down to apologize and offer to take her out, she totally hated his guts.”

Jack snickered a little. He remembered that one. Ransom had been utterly confused about why having to wait until after the term was done hadn’t been a good reason to blow her off for so long because she was a Bio major, too, and shouldn’t she understand that grades come first? Shitty had had to sit him down for a long talk.

“And I’m laughing my ass off but it’s also awful, right? The things that can go wrong. I just couldn’t see how any of y’all could risk it when there were so many ways things could turn out so badly. And Holster said that was part of the appeal, the thrill and danger of the unknown, but Ransom said it was a calculated risk. If you didn’t get too drunk and you were upfront about what you wanted and it being a one-time thing and you made sure you were on the same page, odds were pretty good that you’d have a fun time. And, like, the law of averages made things turn out to be a net positive so even the bad times didn’t outweigh the good. But I wasn’t… it didn’t feel right to me.”

Jack didn’t let himself break out into a huge grin, but it was a near thing. He asked softly, “You didn’t agree?”

“Jack, honey, it’s not like I could disagree when I had absolutely no experience, though, could I? I didn’t know what I was talking about. But it felt like, you know, something was missing. So I talked to Shitty next.”

Jack choked. Where was he for all these conversations? Is this what he missed by hanging out in his room during Haus parties? Virgin freshman Bittle, tipsy and asking the upperclassmen to teach him about sex? _Crisse._

“So Shitty’s entirely wasted on tub juice by this point but he stole Ransom & Holster’s Hockey Shit whiteboard to go over his entire lecture about consent, yet again, but this time with special emphasis on one-night stands and hook-ups. He even rounded up the rest of the frogs for it so I ended up wedged at the kitchen table with Ollie and Wicks and the rest while he explained about pre-sex talks and how they’re essential not just for laying out what you both are and aren’t agreeing to and what you both like and what you want to have happen but also for making sure you’re both sober enough to do this. He also told the crotch vomit story but he made it a cautionary tale about how Holster could have prevented it if he’d spent some time with the girl somewhere quieter than the party, like in the attic or something, drinking water and talking about what they wanted. And Wicks thought this sounded like the most boring thing ever but Shitty started speechifying about how it was really hot, how it was all a part of foreplay and it was the best sort of dirty talk, and anything that made it more likely that you’d be able to get the girl off was a turn-on.”

Bitty stopped to take a sip of his wine. Jack decided to stick to water. It seemed for the best right now.

“And it was a great talk and he emphasized how talking and engaging in prior consent and communicating boundaries made it more likely that it’d be a great experience and not end in tears and yelling and being thrown out of a dorm room pants-less. Which made total sense and is really practical, but it also felt like it’d take away a little from the spontaneity of it all. I don’t know. What did you do?”

Jack coughed and took another drink of water as he realized Bitty was actually expecting him to be articulate right now. He did not want to talk about this. They needed to talk about this. This was a relationship and they needed to communicate both ways. Bitty had said so much and just let it all pour out and Jack needed to reciprocate somehow. He cleared his throat and finally said, “It was… different, for me. Because of who I was. Because of my dad. My breakdown. Casual stuff terrified me because any encounter, casual or serious, man or woman, anyone could at any time rush off to the press afterwards and offer them a story. They still could. 10 years from now Camilla could suddenly decide she hates me and tell Deadspin how many times I ate chicken tenders on our dates or the time she took her shirt off and I, euh, suddenly thought of a hockey play and had to write it down because I was worried I’d forget it if I waited until afterwards and it was, um, distracting me.”

Bitty threw his head back on Jack’s shoulder and laughed and laughed. “Oh Lord, I can totally picture you doing that,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’m almost surprised it hasn’t happened to me yet, Mr. Bigshot NHL Star.”

Jack chuckled, too, more softly. “It still might, Bits. You might do something so fast or so graceful that I can’t help thinking of taking that onto the ice. Make a play out of it. Wouldn’t that be something to tell the haters, eh?” Bitty giggled and Jack longed to continue, to chirp and flirt and touch until Bitty was wholly distracted and he could take his boyfriend home and pretend this conversation had never happened. But he was trying to be a good boyfriend, not a selfish one, so he forced himself to take a deep breath and then continue. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t do it, though.” He sighed. “I wanted so badly to be normal, to fit in, to be like the other guys, both in Juniors and at Samwell. And the thought of being able to forget about my anxiety, to turn off my brain even for just a few minutes, well, it seemed worth any risk. Even though I regretted it afterwards.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Bitty whispered. “I didn’t know.” He stroked his fingers over Jack’s hands, once again settled around Bitty’s waist as they cuddled in their booth. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore, if you don’t want. You said it brought up bad memories and I didn’t…. I shouldn’t….”

“No, Bits, this is good. Talking is good. Communication, eh? Tell me more about how things turned out after talking with Shitty.”

“Okay, but, um, first, can you tell me what you worried about? Other than the exposure and the media? If- if that’s okay.”

“Sure, Bits. There was that, and the expectations. I always had to make it clear that it was a one-time thing. I had to make the first move because it was so hard to tell if someone was attracted to me or was just a puck bunny or knew I had money and was hoping I’d be a big spender. Stuff like that.”

Bitty hummed thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Totally different from what I was worrying about, though. I mean, talking to Shitty helped but it still felt like something was missing.”

Jack nudged him playfully. “So, who did you talk to next? Johnson? You’re running out of upperclassmen here.”

“Chirp chirp chirp, Mr. Zimmermann. I thought about things for a few months and ended up talking to Lardo. She got it.”

“Oh? I didn’t think that was much her scene, or at least I never heard about it. What did she know that the guys didn’t?”

“Well, for starters, she isn’t a big moose of a man and that gives a person a different perspective, if you must know.”

“Oh. I…. hadn’t thought of that.” Jack suddenly felt deeply ashamed of himself. Bitty’s fear of checking, the way he’d curl up if anyone came at him hard, his southern-style of conflict avoidance, all came flooding through his mind at an instant. Bitty had a thing for “tall, dark, and handsome” as he put it and Jack knew first-hand how much Bitty loved to… appreciate… a finely-muscled figure. What would it be like to be attracted to the guys who were the most capable of hurting him? To turn down a gorgeous pair of biceps because the risk of getting hurt if things went wrong was just too high? He kissed the side of Bitty’s head and nuzzled his hair. “I’m sorry, Bits. I should have realized.”

“No, hey, honey, you didn’t know. Mr. High-and-Mighty Feminist Studies Major didn’t know that it was something some cisguys worried about, either, until he tried to get me to go after Samwell’s star linebacker sophomore year and Lardo had to set him straight. Lord, you should have seen the way she laid into him. He spent half the night drunk-crying apologies into my shoulder after that.”

“Linebacker, eh? How’d I miss this?”

“Oh sugar, it wasn’t anything. First kegster after Hazeapalooza, Ransom and Holster got most of the starting defense on the football team to show up. They heard a bunch of them were heteroflexible and decided to get a head start on interviewing my potential Winter Screw dates or something. Apparently, the o-line still wouldn’t come after what you did to them the previous year, but the defensemen took that as a challenge. The linebacker was awfully cute but absolutely massive so even after he winked at me, I kept my distance and just admired his muscles from across the room. Shitty kept coming around and trying to egg me on to go dance with him and he just couldn’t figure out why I thought that was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea.”

Jack was very glad he had reconsidered his stance on Haus parties by the time Epikegster 2014 rolled around. How much more would he have gotten to know his beautiful blonde liney if he’d shown up sooner? Would Bitty have danced with him the way he did with Ransom and Holster? But no. He had been convinced that the only way to damp down his attraction and be a good captain was to avoid any situations involving Bitty and alcohol. The December party Kent had crashed had marked the beginning of the end for Jack’s legendary self-control. He shook his head and tried to stay present. “So, euh, you and Lardo? Good talk?”

“Yeah. It was. She showed me a comic about risk calculation and we talked about how at parties there’s lots of people around but there’s so much noise you might not be heard if you start yelling. And about the self-defense class she wanted me to take with her and the stuff behind my checking issues and what it’s like to be afraid of something and want it at the same time. Our fears.”

Jack clenched his eyes shut tight. “And what are you afraid of, Bits?” he asked, as gently as he could.

“Was afraid. Before. I never got over it, but it doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

“Tell me anyway?”

“What if he pretended to be into me but he was straight and just curious and wanted to experiment, so I’d go down on him and he’d just say, ‘thanks’ and walk away? What if I just wanted to fool around with our hands and stuff but he wanted to, um, be inside me and got really pushy? What if he was rough? What if I freaked out and said ‘stop’ and he didn’t stop? I’ve never been afraid of the media the way you have but what if I was bad at it and he got mad and found my mama on Facebook and told her I was gay? What if he took pictures when I wasn’t looking? What if he wanted to hook up again and I didn’t so he started following me home from the library and stuff? What if I was no good and he told everyone I was an awful lay and no one wanted anything to do with me after that? They’d just all feel bad for the awkward Southern gay boy who had no idea what he was doing and couldn’t even have sex right.” Bitty paused and snorted when Jack made a sad noise. “I was a virgin, honey, these were the sorts of things I worried about. Performance anxiety and all that. You remember.”

Jack did remember. Bitty had been so shy, so hesitant, wanting and longing but afraid of messing up, convinced Jack would want him less if Bitty didn’t please him right. Talking had still been hard for Jack back then but he had known they had to work through this before they ever took their clothes off. He had shared about his past and confessed that Bitty was his first boyfriend and he wanted them to explore and discover each other together. It had taken some time and a lot of patience and experimenting but once Bitty found his confidence…. wow. The first time Bitty not only knew what he wanted in bed but initiated and asked for it had blown Jack away and he’d been in awe of Bitty’s playfulness and creativity ever since. “I remember,” he said huskily. “But we’re in public right now, Bits, so you’d better distract me from remembering anymore right now.”

Bitty giggled and blushed hotly in Jack’s arms. “You’re so bad, Mr. Zimmermann. Anyway, with us dating and all, I still had my worries but nothing like when I was at a Haus party, alone and horny, and wondering if there was a guy there that was worth the risk and how I’d know him if I saw him. It’s just when I start thinking about the whole casual sex and hook-up thing again that my old fears come up and I remember why I never did it.”

And just like that, Jack’s anxiety was back. He fought to keep his voice soft and steady. “What’s got you thinking about hook-ups, Bits?”

Bitty was silent for a long moment. “Dancing,” he answered finally. “Being out with you like this, in public. Being so close to being able to go to a club and dance for real. Thinking about how we, um, might go to a gay club some day and how the whole place would just be full of guys hooking-up without a care in the world. Um. I think. I’ve never been to a real gay club, so I don’t, uh, don’t really know.”

“And you’re curious?”

“Yes. No. Kinda. I mean…. Remember that one fantasy I was telling you about? From when I was 15?”

“Dancing in the arms of a handsome stranger?”

“Yes. Um. That one.” Bitty turned so that instead of leaning into Jack’s side, he was faced away from him, back against Jack’s chest. He stared out over the dance floor as the candlelight flickered off the pink in his cheeks. “I, uh…. never told you the rest of it.”

Jack smirked. “Sure you want to have this conversation in public, eh, bud?” Bitty’s fantasies were the best. So alive and vivid and Jack could nearly always find a way to make them come true, to some extent. But if Bitty’s dream was specifically of something anonymous with someone he didn’t know and was never going to see again…. Bitty snorted and lightly smacked his arm, unaware that Jack’s mood had faded.

“Hush, you. You know perfectly well that once we get home, you’re going to utterly distract me until I don’t even know my own name and then we’ll never get back to this conversation. Gotta have it somewhere where you’ll keep yourself under control.”

Okay. Bitty had a point there. This was just talking. Jack could listen. He could do this. “So tell me about this fantasy, Bits.”

Bitty settled himself back against Jack a little more comfortably and reached for another sip of wine. Liquid courage? “So, um, remember I was 15 when I started dreaming about this and I didn’t know anything about anything, okay? Well, anyway, I’d be somewhere anonymous and exotic and by that I just meant urban, you know? Atlanta was a big deal to me back then. New Orleans seemed like the height of decadence. I’d never been somewhere I could be anonymous in my life and a big city just seemed like a whole different world to me back home in Madison. Somewhere no one knew my name or my mama or anything about me. The bullying, Coach, the isolation, nothing. I once had a straight guy try to get me sweet on him because he thought I could talk Coach into letting him on the football team, did you know that? Sorry, sugar, I’m rambling. Anyway, so I’m at a dance club in a far-away city and I’m dancing with a handsome stranger, just like I told you before. I’m in his arms and flushed and laughing and he’s smiling down at me like I’m just the handsomest thing he’s ever seen and his hands are sliding over my hips and ass and, um, I can feel he’s hard and I am, too. And just when I feel like I can’t take it anymore, he takes my hand and pulls me off the dance floor. And I don’t know where we are but it’s safe and secluded and the lights are dim. He locks the door behind us and pushes me gently across the wall, and just…. Jack, honey? Are you okay?”

Jack is dimly aware that he’s panting and once again clutching his boyfriend just a little too tight. Teeth gritted, he forces out, “Sure, bud. Great story. Keep going. Please. I’m listening.”

Bitty chuckles evilly. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Where was I?”

“You were, euh…. up against the wall.”

“Right. So. He presses me back and just looks at me for a moment, eyes burning, and then he just starts touching me, all over. And I had no idea what that would really feel like but I could sure imagine it and I did, again and again, in my bedroom and my dorm and, uh, even later, in the Haus, before all my fantasies looked like you.”

Jack may not survive this.

“And he’s not too much taller than me so he just has to duck his head a little bit and start licking my neck. Licking and biting and sucking and nibbling on my ears and just… everything, Jack. I don’t even notice when our clothes fall off and we’re rubbing together and his hands are everywhere and it just feels so good. And I still don’t know where we are and I don’t care and even when he drops to his knees his hands keep moving, one reaching up to rub over my chest and, um, pinch my nipples and- ah- stuff like that.” Now Bitty’s gasping a little bit, too. “And I finish and there’s some, um, trickling out of his mouth and he licks his lips and smiles and- and- suddenly I’m imagining that I’m back home, covered in hickies and little bite marks but floating with confidence and- and pleasure. And it changes everything. Knowing I can feel that good, that sex could be that incredible, that somewhere out there may be somebody who can make me feel that way, all sexy and desired and amazing, and I just have to hold tight and survive Madison and escape and go find him one day. The feeling never lasted, of course. After I’d, um, finish myself and the glow faded a bit, reality would set in and I’d worry that no real-world experience could actually be that good and no one was going to want a scrawny, scared thing like me and I was just deluding myself. But I couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. But even after I got to Samwell and, uh, learned more about- erm- gay sex and, um, intercourse and all that, this one fantasy never changed. I never knew what happened next, how I responded. If I, ah, reciprocated at all and how and if it was any good. The whole confidence thing again. You know. I knew what I wanted to feel but I didn’t know what to do so it always just… ended… and I was always left wondering what happened next. But it was one of my favorite fantasies for a long time. Until. You know.”

Jack had forgotten how to speak again, but he managed a questioning sort of sound.  
Bitty giggled and turned around to bury his red face into Jack’s chest. “Well, at some point, a certain Canadian hockey robot started taking over and my fantasies revolved around discovering he wasn’t straight and harbored a few romantic feelings towards me.”

Okay, Jack could respond to that. He could. He could even respond in English. “Well, that one turned out pretty well for you, eh?”

“Yes, Mr. Zimmermann, I do believe it did. No complaints there except for the long wait before our first and second kiss. Lord, was I impatient.”

But if Bitty had no complaints, why was this coming up now? Did Jack do something wrong? _Focus_ , he told himself. _Be better._ “And being here at the club and dancing together reminded you of the fantasy again?”

“Yeah. Um. I mean, I love dancing with you and it’s so good and familiar and I just love how we know each other so well and move like we were made for each other. We just fit together so right, you know? But I think of all the stories I’ve heard, and all the experiences Ransom and Holster told me about and how sometimes it really was as good as any fantasy or even better and I just wonder if that would have been possible for me. And, if so, how many bad or awkward or mediocre or nice but not great or just plain weird experiences it would have taken to get there? If I’d lost my virginity to a boyfriend at high school, I think things would have been different. I’d have had a few good experiences to give me confidence and let me know how things could be in real life. Experimenting would have seemed more fun. It wouldn’t have been an end-all, be-all if things went wrong or it took me awhile to figure things out. But for a first time, well….” He sighed. “It just wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted my first to be with someone who loved me.”

Jack squeezed him even closer. “I love you, Bits.”

“I know, sweetpea, I know. I love you, too. So much. And I’m not unhappy, honest. I just wonder sometimes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you but finding your soulmate and settling down so young… my life’ll be really different than most gay guys out there and a lot of that has to do with less, um, experiences.”

“Any regrets?” Jack whispered softly.

“No,” Bitty whispered back. “Just thinking of all the possibilities and might-have-beens. I had the dream again last night after falling asleep thinking about this date right here and it just… got me thinking.”

Bitty was deflecting again, Jack was sure of it. He gently stroked his hand over Bitty’s hair over and over and thought about it. If Bitty was unhappy about something that even had the slightest thing to do with another man or even the thought of one, he would never tell Jack about it. Ever. It had taken months of seeing Bitty blush every time he saw a picture of Oscar Isaac to get him to admit to finding the celebrity attractive, and even then it had taken Jack sitting him down to watch Agora, seeing Bitty get all worked up over the topless scenes, and then confessing that Jack thought he was hot, too, before Bitty would fess up. If Bitty was willing to tell him about this, and in this much detail, this meant it was big. And to tie it into all the things that stopped him from having any one-night stands in real life, that meant it was huge and not just a passing fantasy. Fantasies didn’t spark lengthy discussions about parameters and boundaries and consent and… what was it? Risk calculation. Bitty had thought about this. Was thinking about this. Would probably keep thinking about this but never tell Jack about it because Bitty still struggled with hiding his feelings and not wanting to hurt Jack. And Jack didn’t want to be hurt. But he didn’t want Bitty to be unhappy, either. He didn’t want Bitty to be 80 years old one day and regretting all the things he never did because Jack had kissed him when he was 21 and then never let him go.

“So, what now, Bits?”

Bitty sighed gustily. “Now we dance. And go home. I am never drinking Moscato at a club ever again if it gets me this rambling and maudlin. Sorry, sugar, I feel like I ruined the mood. And we were having such a good night.”

Jack kissed the top of his head and murmured, “I’m sure you can find a way to turn things around.”

Bitty snickered and pulled away. “I sure can, Mr. Zimmermann. Why don’t we start with a few last turns on the dance floor before heading home?”

Jack smiled and let himself be pulled up and out of the booth. “Lead the way, _mon couer._ ”

Bitty led the way out onto the dance floor and into Jack’s arms and they started to move and Bitty was so, so right. It was special and new doing this in public, but their moves were comforting and familiar. Their bodies knew exactly how they fit together. Even when Jack decided to liven things up with a few dips and turns, their moves were smooth and practiced from their impromptu kitchen dance parties. When Bitty smirked and retaliated by giving Jack a little dip, even that felt practiced from the scant handful of times they’d tried it before in Jack’s living room. Jack was carefully following the new “date face” rules he’d set out for himself while Bitty was busy strategizing the social media campaign (including, but not limited to- kiss sweet but not sexy, no hands below the waist, no getting too worked out talking hockey or history so he didn’t seem angry with or upset at Bitty, and absolutely no discussing Bitty’s checking problem, the closet incident, any of the bullying he dealt with growing up, Jack’s overdose, the struggles of being Bad Bob’s kid, or anything to do with Kent Parson, even just mentioning his name, anywhere in public) but even those boundaries and parameters didn’t shake the feeling of safety and security he felt at having his boyfriend by his side. Which was amazing, really. Jack didn’t think he’d ever have a relationship this solid and stable and unshakeable and he was grateful for it every single day. But it meant Jack didn’t see how he could ever play at being Bitty’s anonymous stranger. He would… have to think about this.

A slow song came on and Bitty slid his arms around Jack’s neck and snuggled close. “Last dance, baby,” he murmured. “I want you home and in my bed.”

Jack buried his smile in Bitty’s hair and breathed deep. “Whatever you say, Bits.” He let himself sink into the rightness of their bodies together and the familiar scent of Bitty sweat/shampoo and the promise of what was to come.

The song ended and they parted smoothly, paid the bill, got their coats, and headed to the car as if this was any ordinary date, their conversation and thoughts of media strategy sneakiness set aside in favor of Jack slinging an arm around Bitty’s shoulder and tugging him close instead of just walking hand in hand. He needed the reassurance from the extra physical contact right now. Jack wondered idly if he’d always be the designated driver on their dates. At the French restaurant and the steak place and tonight he’d had one drink with dinner and then switched to water just out of habit, but he felt like it’d be a good fit. Jack didn’t like drinking a lot anymore and Bitty had so much fun trying out fancy wines or silly drinks with bright colors and goofy names.

In the car, Jack distracted himself further by sneaking looks at his boyfriend. Bitty looked a little sweaty and a little sleepy, but also gorgeous and flushed and not too terribly tired. Jack smirked a little when he snuck peeks without Bitty noticing and smirked more when Bitty caught him and chirped mercilessly about his lack of focus and keeping his eyes on the road.

Finally, finally, they were home and inside, splitting off to pee separately, then coming back together to brush their teeth side by side, routine easy and coordinated as they handed floss and toothpaste and mouthwash back and forth. Jack finished first and as soon as Bitty had spit and wiped his face, Jack was tugging him to the bed with one hand before losing patience entirely and just picking Bitty up and tossing him onto the mattress and crawling over him. “I need you, Bits”, he murmured.

“You have me, Jack”, Bitty whispered back, reaching up and running a hand over his face.

“And you have me. Anything you want, Bits. Anything. I’ll make it happen. I mean it.”

“Lord, Jack…. I know. I’m here. I’m happy. Don’t worry, okay?” Bitty’s eyes were so big and watchful gazing up at him that Jack suddenly recalled something he’d said earlier.

“ _Crisse,_ Bitty, I’m so sorry. You said earlier… you told me you were scared a guy would be rough with you and then I went and just threw you onto the bed like that without even asking. _Merde,_ I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, honey, no, that wasn’t what I meant! That… that’s part of the problem with hook-ups. Because I, um, I like it when you manhandle me. It gets me all hot when you pick me up and throw me around and dig your fingers into my skin and leave marks. And with someone that didn’t know me, I might want it a little rough but I’d be so, so scared that if they knew I liked it that way that they’d keep doing it and just be rougher and rougher and I wouldn’t like it anymore and they’d just keep going, you know? They wouldn’t know where the line was.” Bitty took a ragged breath and stroked his fingers over Jack’s face and into his hair, tugging him closer and burying his face in Jack’s shoulder before continuing. “Like, um, when you’re, ah, entering me, I can’t handle that being rough at all. I need you to be so, so gentle then and no matter how turned on you are you hold back and take your time and make absolutely sure I’m ready and I just love that about you. But a stranger wouldn’t know that I love being tossed onto the bed but not shoved onto it or that clenching your fingers hard into my ass is okay but into my arms is not or that even digging your nails into my ass is still good, it’s hot, but breaking the skin is a hard no.”

Jack moaned and slipped a hand between them to start tugging at the buttons on Bitty’s shirt. He was listening, he really was, and this was giving him more to think about with the whole fantasy problem and what he was going to do about it but right now he just needed his boyfriend naked and against him.

They stripped each other quickly, Bitty’s fingers so nimble with buttons and belt, while Jack kept getting distracted by licking and kissing and nipping over Bitty’s neck and collarbones and chest as each button exposed more skin. There was so much they could do, so much Jack wanted, but he was still worked up from earlier, an odd combination of both exhausted and turned on by their conversation and wanted simple comfort. When he rolled away to kick his boxers off his ankles and onto the floor, he grabbed a towel and spread it out over the duvet, then settled onto his side and pulled Bitty close, chests pressing together and legs intertwined.

“What do you want, Jack?” Bitty whispered, running his hands up and down Jack’s back.”

“I want you, Bits. Always.”

“You have me, Jack”, Bitty whispered for the second time. “Always. I’m yours.”

“Can I touch you?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You don’t even need to ask. You know that.”

“But I want to ask. Tonight. Need to.”

“Please, Jack. Please touch me. You can do anything you want to me. With me. I’m yours, Jack. Forever.”

Jack couldn’t help the groan that broke free at that. _Crisse._ Bitty always knew just what Jack needed to hear. He reached one arm back and grabbed the lube from the nightstand, pouring it onto his palm before carefully lining up their hips and wrapping his hand around them both.

“Oh, honey, yes, Jack, please. You feel so good. You make me feel so good. Please, baby, don’t stop, keep touching me, please.”

Jack moaned and tilted his head down to Bitty who lifted his chin and arched his back so his lips were pressing against Jack’s and his hips were pushing hotly into Jack’s hand. He broke off to gasp, “Yes, Bits, yes”, and Bitty nibbled and sucked across his collarbone from one side to the other, sometimes darting his tongue up to the base of Jack’s exposed throat and sometimes down to drag over the top of Jack’s chest. Through it all Jack kept stroking, easy and snug, wrist twisting at the top, focus more on Bitty’s cock than his own.

When Bitty came, it was with Jack’s name on his lips, a long and drawn-out, “Jaaaaaaaaaaaack” that felt like it was restoring balance to the world. Jack finished soon after, angling himself to shoot across Bitty’s chest and onto his stomach just for the sake of seeing himself splattered across Bitty’s skin. “You did that on purpose,” Bitty accused, laughingly, as he tugged the towel out from under him to start clean-up.

 _“Désolé, je ne peux pas resister.”_ He tries to say it with a straight face but the smirk breaks through. They wipe each other off and Jack tosses the towel towards the hamper before pulling the covers up over them both and snuggling in close, exchanging kisses and endearments until Bitty’s voice fades away, lulled to sleep by the gentle stroking of Jack’s fingers through his hair.

But Jack doesn’t sleep, not yet. He’s trying to figure out how to do the impossible. He lies awake for long hours, turning over every detail of the night’s conversation in his head and fixing it firmly in his mind. He has all the information he needs, he just needs to figure out what to do. 

Tonight he found out that he’s the reason one of Bitty’s dreams won’t come true.

And he can’t accept that.

He won’t. 

He is going to figure something out.

Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: Désolé, je ne peux pas résister -> Sorry, I can’t resist.
> 
> Bitty is imperfectly remembering the "welcome to the Haus" speech from this comic: http://checkpleasecomic.com/comic/01-04-01
> 
> What Jack did to the football's o-line is here: http://checkpleasecomic.com/comic/02-07-01
> 
> This is the risk calculation comic that Bitty and Lardo read together during their talk: http://www.robot-hugs.com/risky-date/
> 
> Shitty's speech is more based on this one: http://www.robot-hugs.com/consent-castle/
> 
> I headcanon that Jack has all sorts of historical fantasies, time-period dependent on what he's been reading recently but he thinks Bitty would be especially at home in a Regency-era romance of comedy and polite manners. The thought keeps Jack warm on long roadies.
> 
> I also headcanon that when Shitty started to suspect that Jack was less than straight, he sent Jack a link to the full text of the 1880s work The Sins of the Cities of the Plain and "innocently" asked if it was a real historical text or a fake. Warning, absolutely filthy: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53964/53964-h/53964-h.htm

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of 3. Part 2 will be rated M and part 3 will be E. Trying to decide if I should upgrade the ratings as I go along or keep part 1 as its own work and make this a series instead of a 3 chapter fic. I couldn't resist diving deep into Bitty's social media genius and how it'd play out after the Cup Kiss so this intro feels almost like a stand-alone with no plot, just the strategy and a series of dates. Thoughts?


End file.
